^ 



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MEMOIRS 



€ O L . A R I A L BRAGG 



» w 



WRITTEN BY HIMSELF. 



^•' T looked upon it and rereived instruction,"— Pho verbs 



MILFORD ' 
GEORGE W. STACY, PRINTER 



1S46. 






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««*'f*ecc« t 



PREFACE. 



The object of these Memoirs is in some meas- 
ure to remedy an evil, which the author believes to 
have been, by the American people generally, too 
long neglected. It is true, our Fathers, who first 
emigrated to this country, were compelled by their 
situation to bestow all their time and attention, on 
cultivating the earth, and humbly asking the bles- 
sing of Divine Providence on all their labors, 
to save them from pestilence and famine ; the ar- 
row from the bow, and the tomahawk in the hands 
of the savage, who lurked in the forest thirsting 
for human blood. These and many other difficul- 
ties, which unavoidably tread on the heel of all 
settlers in new coiuitries, and more especially those 
separated from their mother country by a vast 
ocean. These are but a few of the many calami- 
ties, that so often thined their ranks, whilst those 
that survived their not much less unfortunate breth- 
ren, were for the want of bread, but little more 
than walking skeletons, which may be considered 
a reasonable excuse for many ihat have not left on 
record, any account of themselves, that might have 
been handed down to their chiklrcn's children, that 
future generations, might have rejoiced at the op- 
portunity of tracing their genealogy back, if no 
farther than the landing of their fathers in Amcri- 



IV PREFACE. 

ca, to know the name of that father who left hii 
home, his native country, for the wilds of Ameri- 
ca. Then their descendants would not have had 
occasion to pry into obscurity, or tresspass on the 
aged, to learn the names of their ancestors ; the 
nation they were of, the country and town they for- 
ever left behind them, for this then howling wild- 
erness, but now prosperous and happy land, which 
the author considers an invaluable legacy to us 
their descendants, and only regrets he has now no 
means of tracing back, but three generations, which 
is all that will be attempted at this late period of 
time. 

It is believed, a sufficient excuse will be found 
in the foregoing, and only remains to know who 
this Arial Bragg is, where he was born, and from 
whom he descended. This will be answered ac- 
cording to the best information that can be ob- 
tained at this late period of time ; at least it may 
be a starting point from which others, who if they 
please, may continue what is here so imperfectly 
commenced. 



M2E®a®35Ega 



That the difTerenl places of residence, of my an- 
cestors may be belter understood, is to know tiiat 
Dedham, in its first settlement, contained what is 
now Wrentham and Franklin. The first settlers 
in Wrentham came from Dedham about the year 
1650, and on the 27th of March 1661 petitioned 
Dedham to set them off by themselves, which they 
did ; and in October the 15th 1673, petitioned the 
General Court to be incorporated into a Town by 
the name of Wrentham, which petition was ans- 
wered the same day it was presented. In 1676 
the inhabitants left the town and returned to Ded- 
ham, on account of the G^reat Indian war, called 
King Phillips' War, commenced in 1675. In Au= 
gust 1676 King Phillip was killed, and the war 
soon brought to a close ; when Samuel and Cor- 
nelius Fisher, with sixteen others, returned to 
Wrentham in 16S0. Between the years of 16S4 
and 1692, they built their first meeting-house; their 
first ministers name was Mann, He was ordained 
the 13th of April 1692, and died the 22d of May 
1719; nged 72 year?; and the forty-ninth year of 



6 ^ BIEMOIRS. 

his ministry, as he had preached some nineteen 
years before he was ordained. 

Henry Messenger was their second minister ; he 
was ordained the 5th day of December 1719. In 
1721 their second meeting-house was built on the 
26th of October 1773. Rev. Joseph Bean preached 
a century sermon in the third meeting-house, he be- 
ing at that time their third minister ordained in 
that place, from which we take many of the follow- 
ing dates. Mehitable Shears, was the first person 
born in Wrentham of English descent ; and the 
son of John Wears, the first buried in a burying 
place in that town, the 10th of February 1673. 

Franklin was set off from Wrentham as a 
Parish, the 29th of August 1737, and on the 16th 
of February 173S, Elias Haven was called to 
preach with them, who died the 10th of August 
1754, aged 41 years, and the 16th of his minis- 
try. The 4th of June 1760, Caleb Burnham was 
ordained, and dismissed the 6th of March 1768. 
Rev. Nathaniel Emmons, their third minister, 
was ordained the 21st of April 1773, and preached 
in the first meeting-house in that place, on the 
North side of which stood a lofty pine tree, whose 
stately form seems as if it was placed there to 
screen the speaker within from harm, whilst he 
dispensed a portion from the sacred Scriptures, 
nnd to the small group who had assembled from 



MEMOIRS. 



amongst the trees of the forest, to feed on the 
. bread of eternal life, flowing from the mouth of 
their speaker, and from whose pen and tongue, 
they continued to receive instruction for more 
than sixty years. 

Arial Bragg, the author of these Memoirs, was 
the son of Arial Bragg, who was the son of William 
Bragg, whose fathers name was Alexander Bragg, 
who with his wife came into the town of Wrentham, 
where he had, either before, or after he came, four 
sons and five daughters, viz : William, Nicholas, 
Constant and Alexander, Elizabeth, Lydia, Mar- 
tha, Jemima, and Sarah. We leave William and 
pass to Nicholas, who in the early settlement of 
Vermont, left Wrentham and settled in Springfield, 
West side of Connecticut River, about five miles' 
above Charlestown, N. H., where he lived to a 
good old age, leaving behind him numerous de- 
scendants. Constant settled in Wrentham ; was 
endowed with uncommon strength and ability to 
perform almost any labor that he was called on to 
do— maintained the character of an honest man, 
reared considerable of a family, labored hard, and 
died poor. Alexander, the youngest of the family, 
married Esther Fisher, daughter of John Fisher 
of Franklin, carried on the farm of his father in 
law, until the year 177G, when John Fisher told 
his farm to Eli Kichardson, and removed in 1777 



8 MEMOIRS. 

Oil lo a farm in Wrentham, bought of Joseph 
Spur ; JVlexander removed with him, carried on 
his farm as at Franklin, until the 8th of March 
17S5, when he removed on to a farm in the South 
Westerly part of Holliston, Middlesex Co. bought 
of one Tenney, in 1702 ; sold what remained of 
his place, to Ebenezer Littlefield, and in 1793 re- 
moved into a tenement in Holliston, belonging to 
Ephraim Littlefield, where his wife died, leaving 
three daughters, Jemima, Rhoda and Sophronia, 
to take their chance in life without the fostering 
care of a mother ; some time after married a wo- 
man from Atlleborough, said to be a widow of Dr. 
Mann, by whom he had eight hundred dollars, and 
removed on to a small farm in Hopkinton, bought 
of Aaron Kinsman. In a short time he become in- 
volved — exchanged his place for one in Warwick, 
of less value, where in a short time he had occas- 
sion to exchange that for one of less value in Strat- 
ten, Windham Co. Vt. on which he removed with 
his wife and two sons, which he had by his last 
wife. Not long after this removal he was taken 
sick, and from which he never recovered, but died 
as was said by violence from the hand of his wife. 
Elizabeth, daughter of Alexander the first, mar- 
ried to Capt. John Blake of Wrentham, two miles 
South of the centre meeting-house, on the old road 
leading to Boston. Lydia, married Dea. David 



MEMOIRS- 9 

Hoibrook, in Noilh Wrenthnjii, Martha was 
married to John Hancock, in the Southerly part of 
Wrentham. Jemima was married to a man by the 
name of Stanely, and Sarah to Benjamin Ray. 

We will return to William the oldest son of 
Alexander the first, who married a woman by the 
the name of Bcnett, and settled in Wrentham, 
where his wife brought him five sons and one 
daughter, viz : Henry, Luther, Arial, William, 
.Ebenezer, and Polly, and where he came to his 
death in a most extraordinary manner. He had 
occasion with two others to tend a furnace for cast- 
ing hard ware, situated in Wrentham. In the 
evening Aaron Pond, a young man of their ac- 
quaintance called in for a few moments ; they be- 
ing much weary in tending day and night, agreed 
with him to tend the furnace a short time whilst 
they slept. Distressing to tell, whilst his three 
friends were asleep with their feet to the furnace, 
their friend was alarmed by the bursting of the 
furnace, from which the melted ore made its es- 
cape, and flowed over his three friends, consuming 
their flesh to the bone ! when Pond, with the for- 
titude of a man, and the heart of a Lion, drew 
them forth from the spot where they all three had 
but short notice of their departure to that land 
' from whose bourne no traveller returns.' 

V^ will non- leave Wiliiani in hi^J "la^r; ;ind 



10 MEMOIRS. 

£Tive some accoanl of his son Henry ; who left 
Wrentham for Ke(;nc, N. H. where he married his 
wife, who brought him one or more children, when 
his country called him to the American War of 
1775, where he did the duly of an orderly sergeant. 
After an absence of more than a year, he return- 
ed and found his house sacked ; his wife had left 
her home for that of another man, carrying with 
her all of any value. 

From this scene he turned away heart broken to 
join his comrades in arms, which service he con- 
tinued to perform till the close of the war. Fnding 
himself broken down by the fatigues of seven years 
in the service of his country, he retired to his 
native State — found employment in tending a grist 
mill for an old lady, not far from Wrentham. This 
IS all we know concerning him. 

Luther Williams, second son went to Keene, 
married and settled four miles West of Keene 
centre meeting-house, a place called by the Indians 
Ashawillet, where he had a large family and ac- 
cumulated a handsome property. His oldest son 
being appointed Deputy Sheriff, made some mis- 
take in a heavy matter, his father was his bonds- 
man, by which he lost the largest part of his prop= 
erty, and lia^i long since paid the debt of nature. 

William, the fourth son of William Bragg, 
served his inuc at Blacksinithii)2' ^vith Col Amos 



MExllOIUS. 11 

Turner the senior, where he became a finished 
workman — went to Keene, N. H. set up his busi- 
ness, married and had a large family and much 
work to do for good customers, by which he main- 
tained his family, and obtained for many years the 
name of a good citizen. At length he became disi- 
pated; neglected his business, died poor and un- 
lamented. 

Arial, son of William, man'ied the daughter of 
John Fisher of Franklin — more of him hereafter. 
Ebenezcr Williams' youngest son settled in the 
Otter Creek country, West of the Green Moun- 
tains, Vt. where he closed his career in this life 
honorable to himself. Polly Williams' only daugh- 
ter, married a man by the name of Field. He was 
a Blacksmith by trade, and lived in Keene, N. H. 
with whom his wife's mother also lived until her 
death. 

We will now give some further account of his 
descent from that of Eleazer Fisher, who in 1706 
removed from Wrentham, and settled in Franklin, 
on the road leading from Med way to Wrentham, 
about one mile South of Medway line, or the mid- 
die of Charles River, on a farm now owned by Dr. 
Nathaniel Miller, where in May 1706, his wife 
brought him a son, who he named John, and who 
was the first male child born on the land now with- 
in he bounds of Franklin, and where Eleazer Fish- 



12 



MEMOIRS. 



er continued to the end of his hfc, leaving the most 
of his estate to his son Leonard, who lived and 
died there. 

Nathaniel, settled about a mile South on the 
same road, being the same land on which Lewis 
Fisher Esq. his grandson now lives. Hezekiah, 
lived and died a bachelor. Sarah, married a man 
by the name of Lethbridge. John, his youngest 
son who we have said sold his place in Franklin, 
to Eli Richardson ; in his early days married a 
wife whose name was Phebe Gay, who was an 
exemplary and pious woman. She looked well to 
her household, and gave a portion to all in due 
season, by whom her husband had four sons and 
five daughters, viz : Phebe, John, Sarah, Esther, 
Rhoda, Amos, Rebecca, and two sons who died in 
their infancy. His daughter Phebe married a man 
by the name of Archer, by whom she had one son, 
and in a few days died, leaving her son whose name 
was Amos, to the kind care and keeping of her 
father John Fisher, who reared his grandson to the 
age of sixteen, and from whom he received in his 
latter days, a rich reward in the kind care and ten- 
der treatment he at all times received from the hand 
of his grandson Amos, until Oct. 1791, when af- 
ter a long life devoted to Christianity, of which he 
was a .worthy example, at the age of eighty-five 
years and five months, in calm resignation to the 



MEMOIRS. 13 

will of his Heavenly Father, resigned his body to 
the dust, and his spirit to Him who gave it. His 
daughter Rhoda married Ebenezer Leland of Hop- 
kinton, and removed with him to Peru, at that time 
called Patridgeiield ; from thence moved to Hinds- 
dale, died there — leaving at his death two daugh- 
ters. 

We have already given an account of Esther 
the third daughter of John Fisher, who was mar- 
ried to Alexander Bragg, son of Alexander the 
first, which is all the account we can now give of 
John Fisher's children, excepting his daughter 
Sarah, who married Arial Bragg, son of William; 
thus it will be seen that Arial Bragg, son of Wil- 
liam and Alexander, Williams brother, married sis- 
ters. Arial after marriage, lived with his wife Sa- 
rah in the North part of Wrentham, on land known 
by the name of the Boyd place, where his wife 
brought him two sons and two daughters, viz : — 
Willard, Arial, Eunice and Folly. In the Spring 
of 1777 removed on to a farm in the centre of 
Franklin, bought of Joshua Daniels, where his 
wife brought him a daughter whose name was Sal- 
ly, and where he, by the help of his small farm and 
that of his hands, being a Shoemaker, provided 
a comfortable living for himself and family, when 
he was called to take part in the war of the Ameri- 
times that tried men's souls ; the 



14 MEMOIRS. 

American people struggling to relieve tliemsclves 
from taxation imposed on them by Great Britian, 
wihout their consent, and many other burdens too 
grievous to be borne. In fine, to relieve them- 
selves from absolute tyranny, and to teach the 
English nation a lesson never to be forgotten, that 
those who had the courage to emigrate to this 
wild wilderness, inhabited by savage man as well 
as beasts, had hearts of steel to defend it, for which 
they pledged to each other their lives, their for- 
tunes, and more than that their sacred honors, nev- 
er to submit until the chain of slavery already forg- 
ed for their necks should be broken, and thrown to 
the dogs of the British Parliment, as a token of the 
daring deeds of those Patriots. Arial Bragg was 
compelled in defence of those rights, dearer than 
life, to bid adieu for a time, perhaps forever, 
to the partner of his bosom, and his cherished 
little ones, and turn his back on all that man holds 
dear save his liberty ! and hasten to join his coun- 
trymen in arms at the tented field, where the stand- 
ard of liberty had been planted and must flourish, 
although its roots might require to be moistened 
with the best blood of the American land ! 

What added more to the heart-felt distress of 
leaving his dear wife and little one the object of his 
affections, was not that of leaving them ill the 

midst of kind neiehbor^s but leaving them surround- 
3 



MEMOIRS. 15 

ed by ToryvS to the cause of liberty— who made do 
scruples to declare that although they were then 
compelled to put on the smile of friendship, while 
if they had you within the British lines, they would 
wash their hands to their elbows in your heart's 
blood. Such were the blood thirsty cannibals that 
surrounded the poor soldier's wife and five small 
children, who were left to the mercy of the mer- 
ciless, with the exception of a few distant neigh- 
bors, who the Torys tried to cudgel into submiss- 
ion, that they might more safely supply the British 
with fresh provisions, whilst the British were by 
fire and sword, laying waste the country, and by 
all the means that in them lay, drawing the last 
drop of blood from the hearts of the American 
people. The poor soldiers term the first time in 
the service of his country, was not of long dura- 
tion, but long enough for poverty in its most hor- 
rid form ; not only to surround the poor man's 
dwelling, but had closely examined every part with- 
in, whilst the ungodly Torys laid waste the fields, 
and gave the swine means of destroying what lit- 
tle the soldier's wife had hoped, with the blessing 
of heaven, might be gathered to gladden the heart 
of a mother, and allay in some measure the hung- 
er of her children. But alas ! it was not so, her 
hopes were blasted, and all earthly happiness draw- 
ing to a close. The only glimmering hope that rc= 



16 MEMOIRS, 

mainecl, was the return of licr hns])anf.l, that pos- 
sibly some way or means might be devised to save 
her and her little ones from pestilence without, apd 
famine from within. She looked, but looked in 
vain ; her husband came not. He could not be 
spared from tire field of honor. To provide for one, 
and leave more for the rest, she put her second 
son Arial, to Daniel Gould in the North part of 
Wrentham, September 1779. Having one child 
ofT her hands, she made strenuous efforts to save 
the remainder from starvation. But still her hus- 
band came not. The cold and inclement season 
had made its appearance, with that sternness that 
poverty and a broken heart had not the power to 
combat. Seeing no means to escape her then sit- 
uation, she was compelled to have recourse at last, 
although not the least afflicting, it was that of ap- 
plying to the overseers of the poor for the town of 
Wrentham, for that relief she and her children so 
much needed. John Fisher her father, moved with 
compassion for the sufferings of his daughter, bid 
her with her youngest child welcome at his house, 
while the Selectmen being overseers of the poor 
that year, made provision for the remaining four 
as follows : Willard they bound by indentures to 
Elijah Ferrington, until he should be sixteen years 
of age. Eunice they put to Abijah Pond, and 
Polly to Nathan Fisher, all in Wrentham, while 



/ 



MEMOIRS. 17 

Arial was loft with Daniel Gould, for Alexander 
Bragg to take away when he pleased. Willard 
often complained of short living, which may be 
true, as he was once caught eating crusts of bread 
from his grandfather Fisher's swill pail who lived 
quite near his masters. No one taking notice of 
his complaints, as he made none to no one but his 
brother, but sought his living the best way he 
could, until within two months of his time being 
out with his master, when taking with him his gun, 
he was oil to the West. On his way he fell in 
with Mr. Parmenter of Petersham, with whom he 
lived until twenty-one years of age. Here he 
lived well, was clothed well, and was dismissed 
with sixty-six dollars and sixty seven cents. From 
this place he went to the German Flats, married 
Iiim a wife and went to his father in laws in Scipo, 
Cyauga Co. N. Y.; from there to Dryden, where in 
1S14 his brother paid him a visit, gave him sixty 
dollars, and paid his expenses to Albany, and back 
again from thence to Whitesborough, from thence 
to Canaan, Wayne Co. Ohio. After one more 
move of seven miles North West of Canaan, he 
made his last move to within a few miles of his on- 
ly daughter Lura. She had married Mr. Wil- 
liam Cahow in Norton, Portage Co. Ohio. His 
daughter Lura has since died, and he if living, 
was seventy-five years old the 12lh of Dec. 1845. 
Eunice in the time of her service learned the 



IS MEMOIRS. 

trade of her mistress, who was a Tailoress — went 
to Wilminglon, married to Daniel Lincoln, who 
finding the land cold and unproductive, removed to 
Alexander, Genesee Co. N. Y. where she had a 
large family, and with the help of her husband 
accumulated a handsome propert}^ she being a 
woman of uncommon power of bod}^ as well as of 
mind. Her husband looked m her for counsel, she 
was the stay of his family ; her husband was qui- 
et and well disposed, but of small mind, with whom 
she lived contented and happy. Her anxiety to 
gain property, and the concerns of the family to- 
gether, proved too much for her strength ; her 
constitution gave way, consumption and death fol= 
lowed. She was buried the 16th of October 1820, 
aged 46. 

Polly was born the Sth of October 1776. She 
went from Nathan Fisher's to tend store for a 
man in Mendon, by the name of Neet, who struck 
her with a whip because she would not wear a 
pair of thick shoes that he had got repaired with 
heavy soles. At this the neighbors took offence ; 
lay near the house, and when she came out, took 
her into the office of Seth Hastings Esq. to whom 
by their request she told her story. A warrant 
was granted, and Nett apprehended, brought to 
trial and fined debt and cost to the extent of the 
law J when she left and came to Holliston ; from 



MEMOIRS. 19 

thence she followed her sister Eunice to Wilming- 
ton — married Perous Lincoln, brother to Daniel 
her sister's husband, and removed with them to 
Alexander, where her husband died, and where in 
time she married the second time and removed to 
Black Rock. Her husband became dissipated ; so 
much so, that it was unsafe to live with him, when 
she went to live with her son in law, John Miles, 
in Amherst, and may be yet living. Sally, the 
youngest daughter of Arial Bragg was born in 
Franklin in 1778, and in the fall of 1779 was re- 
moved with her mother into the house of her grand- 
father, and continued under the roof with her 
grandfather, mother and others, until she came to 
womanhood. She then went to HoUiston, board- 
ed with her brother and others, and worked at the 
tailoress business, until she married to Isaac Kibee, 
who lived some time in Milford, when he removed 
to Medway, now a part of Holliston, where she 
closed her many years of sickness by death. 

Arial, son of William, who was absent in his 
country's service, as has been said, returned for 
the first time since his wife applied to the town for 
assistance. He had before his return enlisted for 
three years, and taken his bounty of three hundred 
dollars ; he had but a short time to stop and see 
his wife and little ones, and bid them adieu for 
three long years; he gave to each of his children an 

9 



20 MEMOIRS. 

English crown piece, fifty shillings old tenor, six 
shillings and eight pence lawful currency, or one 
dollar and ten cents federal. When he came to 
give the parting kiss to the wife of his love, and 
press to his bosom for the last time his infant daugh- 
ter, on whom he looked, but spake not ; and whilst 
the silent tear stole down his war-worn cheek, he 
turned to join his comrades in arms, waving his 
hand to bid adieu for that time and forever. He 
was stationed at West Point, and did the duty of a 
Barber for the officers. The Small Pox prevailed 
at the time at that place, which in the way of his 
business he had the misfortune to take. There 
was to appearance but little cause of alarm but a 
few moments before his death ; the ail struck in as 
the pock flatted down. He felt himself going 
when in the anguish of his heart he spoke for the 
last time — my children ! my children ! shall I see 
them no more ! when death closed the scene. 

We will now give some faint but true account of 
Arial Bragg, who we left with Daniel Gould in 
North Wrentham,'to understand the economy prac- 
tised in those days, and particularly the manner of 
treatment of Mr. G's. wife to Arial. The family 
of Daniel consisted at this time of four children, 
one son and three daughters, viz : Peter, Polly Sal- 
ly and Ozina. You will see that six constituted 
this family, if you Uirow in Arial to make weight, 



MEMOIRS. 21 

who was seven years old the 30th of July 1779. 

It was the old woman's general custom to boil 

meet and potatoes for dinner, from which she with 

a heart of adamant, and cold as the grave, would 

help Arial to a small piece of meat and two small 

potatoes, and a like piece of bread ; for supper and 

breakfast there was but one continued round, half 

pint of the liquor that the meat was boiled in, was 

served to him in a brown earthen pint porringer, 

striped with yellow at the bottom, into which was 

added what bread she did take up at one time with 

the end of her thumb and fore fingers, from a 

wooden bowl standing on a table with a spoon but 

half of common length, which Arial put in full 

operation until the porringer was relieved of its 

contents, and the spoon broken off by the bowl by 

continued bending when at the bottom of the dish. 

This answered his most sanguine expectations, 

as he was now furnished with a spoon of full 

length, and of which the old lady's sagacity never 

discovered the moral of his breaking a short spoon 

for a long one. There was an exception to his 

having meat and potatoes for dinner, which was of 

so little consequence, it had like to have slipt his 

mind. Daniel killed a hog, and his two ears were 

cut off from his head, boiled and given to Arial for 

his dinner ; and for once he had as much as he 

wanted — for what the two ears lacked for meat on 
2# 



22 MEMOIRS. 

the outside, was made up of hair on the edges, and 
wax within; they were boiled as the butcher left 
them. 

This year in December the snow fell five feet 
deep on the level. Some places in cutting wood, 
stumps were left more than twelve feet high, and 
travelling could be done in no other way than on 
snow shoes, which caused Daniel to put his knife 
to the throat of every old horse he could law^fully 
lay his hands on, as he did much with green horse 
hides in stringing bows for snow shoes. In the 
time of this snow storm, Daniel discovered that 
Arial had no small clothes, suitable to the season; 
ordered the house to be searched for a piece of 
cloth, when lo a piece of woolen and linen cloth 
was found, striped, red and white, from which 
Daniel, he being an ingenious man, cut him a pair 
of small clothes, and small they were ; if cutting 
them small had then been in fashion, Daniel's repu- 
tation would have stood far ahead of all in that 
part of the country. When the small clothes were 
finished, they could not be buttoned at the knee in 
any other way, than by running a string doubled 
through the button, and draw it through ; and when 
buttoned he could not bend his knee, which made 
it convenient in the discharge of his unavoidable 
business, as small houses were scarce and the snow 
so deep, it could be done by one of his age in no 



MEMOIRS. 23 

Other way. Daniel's wife had a heart of adamant. 
She would as often deny him a piece of bread as 
asked for, and as asking became useless,] he was 
drove to other means. He was on the evening of 
the 12th of January, actually stealing bread from 
the big wooden bowl on the table, when his uncle 
Alexander Bragg came for him, and he had the 
pleasure of running four miles on the snow, upon 
the road made by snow shoes, between the hours of 
eight and ten that evening. This exchange in a 
long run was none of the best ; but it was better 
than to starve, for in this exchange he had enough 
to eat — was in the house of his grandfather John 
Fisher, whose farm Alexander then carried on. 
His mother with her youngest child was also there. 
His uncle Alexander, and his aunt Esther, with 
whom he was to live occupied the other part of the 
house. The combination of these things made the 
times pleasant, and for a while agreeable. 

Alexander for a trade was not a man to be taken 
by surprise, as it appears he took Arial on trial. 
He was not bound to him by the Selectmen, for 
more than one year after he came, as the indentures 
were not made until the 24th of January 1781, of 
which the following is a true copy : 

' This indenture witnesseth that we the subscri- 
bers. Selectmen of the town of Wrentham, within 

the County of Suffolk, and Commonwealth of Mas- 
3 



24 MEMOIRS. 

sachusetts, with the assent of two Justices of the 
Peace for said County, have put and placed, and by 
these presents do put and place Royal Bragg,^ son 
of Royal Bragg, a poor child as an apprentice to 
Alexander Bragg of Wrentham aforesaid, said 
yeoman, to learn the art of husbandry, as shall be 
necessary for such an apprentice, with the said 
Alexander Bragg to serve, abide and remain, until 
he shall arrive at the age of sixteen years, all which 
time, or term, his master he shall faithfully serve, 
his secrets keep close, and his lawful commands 
gladly do and obey'; he shall not do any damage to 
his master, nor allow any to be done by others, 
without giving notice thereof to him. He shall not 
waste, perloin, or embezzel the goods, or estate of 
his master, nor lend them unlawful to any ; he 
shall not practice unlawful games, nor haunt 
places of debaucheries, nor be at any time from 
family order, without the consent of his master, 
during said term of service, as aforesaid, but in all 
things carry and behave himself as a dutiful, faith- 
ful and obedient apprentice ought to do during the 
said term. 

And the said master, doth hereby promise and 
engage to find and provide for the said apprentice, 
good wholesome meat, drink, washing, lodging, 
suitable apparel, and all other things necessary, 

* ArJal Bragg, erroneously called Royal Bragg. 



MEMOIRS. 25 

both in sickness and health, during the term of his 
service as aforesaid, and to teach and instruct said 
apprentice in husbandry business, and also to teach 
or cause him to be taught in reading, writing and 
Arithmetic, so much as shall be necessary for him, 
if he be capable to learn, and at the expiration of 
said term of his service, to dismiss said apprentice 
well clothed with two good suits of apparel for all 
parts of his body both woolen and linen, as is 
generally used; one suit for Sabbath days, the other 
for working days suitable to his quality. 

In testimony whereof, the parties have to this 
indenture interchangeably set their hand and seals 
this twenty-fourth day of January, A. D. 1781, in 
the fifth year of the Independence of the United 
States of America. 

Signed, sealed and delivered in presence of us, 
Elijah Farrington, 
Joanna Pond. 

Jno. Hall, 

Lewis Whitney, 

Robert Blake, 

Nathan Blake. 
Consented to — Jabez Fisher, Just, of the Peace. 
Benj. Guile, Just, of the Peace, consented. 

It will be seen by the foregoing copy of the in- 
denture, made by the Selectmen of Wrentham, 
binding a poor child, son of one of the defenders 

of their liberty and independence to Alexander 

. 3^ 



26 MEMOIHS. 

Bragg, without even having his name on the in- 
denture, leaving Alexander to take advantage of 
the poor soldier's child. This he was at all times 
careful to do. He did not take much advantage in 
the first part of the time of his apprentice, for his 
age deprived him of the means. But he was care- 
ful not to give him an education, either through 
neglect or designedly. He made no scruples by 
falsehood and every deception his evil heart could 
devise, to take all advantage that came in his way, 
which youth had not the courage, nor ignorance 
the power to dispute. Alexander Bragg was not 
the worst man in all points ; he was selfish for 
want of means, small for want of mind to look be- 
yond tomorrow. He never sought for anything he 
could not obtain to day. He was shrewd in trade; 
no one made money out of him. He was shiftless 
to a proverb in his way of doing business, as well 
as that of living ; he would borrow until his neigh- 
bors were tired of lending, and when a small stock 
was procured, run again to pay. He was a kind 
neighbor, attentive to the sick ; naturally peevish 
and fretful. While he lived on the farm purchased 
with the money his father in law, John Fisher, 
gave his daughters, his estate continued to waste 
away, no one directly knew how. In seven years 
he was compelled to sell his place as before said, to 
Ebenezer Littlefield. In his way of living about 



MEMOIRS. 27 

all liQ had by his second wife was gone at his 
death. 

Arial Hved with his uncle Alexander from the 
12th of January 1780, \intil the 24th of January 
1781, when he was bound as a poor child, which 
may be seen by the foregoing copy of the inden- 
ture. From that time until the 8th of March 1785, 
he had no material cause of complaint. Whether 
his kind treatment from his master can be attribut- 
ed to the circumstance of living in the same house 
with his grandfather Fisher and his mother, we 
will leave for others to judge. It is enough to say 
that it was altogether different after he removed 
with his master to Holliston. His schooling was 
neglected, and as to his clothes, it can scarcely be 
said he had any. If any excuse could be offered, 
it would gladly be done ; the most we can say in 
his favor is his three daughters, as they advanced 
in age, became more expensive, and for the waot 
of forethought and sound or common sense, his 
means diminished. 

From the age of sixteen to that of eighteen and 
«ight months, he had but one shirt at a time, and 
that would become so mutilated with patches, that 
at was difficult to determine with any certainty, 
which was a part of the original, with other cloth- 
ing in connection with his shirt. To show clearly 
Siis masters inattention to his absolute and indis- 
4 



28 MEMOIRS. 

peiisable vvanls, at the age of fifteen years and four 
months he sent him with a horse which was traded 
for with a nian who was not the owner, to Luther 
Bragg, four miles West of Keene, N. H. there to 
leave the horse, and return on foot a stranger to all 
the way except six miles, without giving him one 
cent to spend on the way ; nor did he ever name 
the thing, as the man his master had the horse of 
was worthless, and the owner was in search for 
him, there was no time to loose. He started early 
on the second morning after the thing was known, 
with a small bag of oats laid on behind him for the 
horse, but not a cent for himself; he travelled fifty 
miles to Petersham, w^here he had a brother with 
whom he staid that night — took supper, lodging and 
breakfast, and left early for his uncle Luther's be- 
ing forty-four miles the way that he went, where 
he arrived the same night without any refreshment 
on the way ; left next morning and found his way 
back to Keene street at 12 o'clock A. M. ; called on 
his aunt Polly and his grandmother, who resided 
with her daughter Polly Field; who was then bak- 
ing at a little past 1 o'clock P. M. They took from 
the oven some small round rye and Indian cakes, 
of which he partook, some warm bread and butter 
as they then called it. They asked him no ques- 
tions concerning his }7ast, present, or future con- 
cerns, and he thoudit it best soon to be off. At 3 



MEMOIRS. 29 

o'clock started on his forty miles tramp, to his 
brothers in Petersham, under a strong conviction 
that his future calls on his grandmother and aunt, 
would be short and far between. He travelled till 
dark, slept for a time in a barn by the way side, 
and whilst it was dark he started on. The road he 
went was through the towns of Swanzey, Rich- 
mond, Royalston and Athol to Petersham, where he 
arrived about 4 o'clock P. M. weary and hungry, 
having fasted thirty-three hours. 

The next morning after breakfast, not consider- 
ing that he had fifty miles to travel on foot, with no 
means to subsist but on the charity of the public, 
he spent the morning until 10 o'clock, when he 
made his way home. At night found himself in 
Shrewsbury — asked permission and was admitted 
to sleep on a bed made on the floor, a small way 
East of the meeting-house. In the morning after 
walking about seven miles towards Westborough, 
his appetite was too strong to be dispensed with ; 
and he called at a house on the South side of the 
road, and the East side of a small river, and asked 
for something to eat ; they were out of bread, and 
were baking, but the good woman found a small 
piece of bread which she put in a pint of milk 
which he ate, and after walking sixteen miles fur- 
ther, found himself at home at 3 o'clock P. M. 

At sixteen years of age, he was falsely told by 



30 MEMOIRS. 

his pretended master that he was bound to him by 
his mother until twenty-one years old, to learn the 
trade of Shoemaking. Believing that to be true, 
he contented himself the best way he could until 
March 1771, being eighteen years and eight months 
old. He then began seriously to reflect on his situ- 
ation, and the many injuries he believed that he 
had suffered from the hand of his pretended mas- 
ter, and expostulated with him in the following 
manner : — 

Where is that silk handkerchief, bought at Bos- 
on, by my aunt Rhoda Fisher with the money that 
I received of Landlord Mann for Patridges, caught 
in the woods when but eleven years old, which cost 
seventy-five cents, and which I never had the pleas- 
ure to take into my hands ? Where is the money 
I received for all the Patridges and Hares that you 
borrowed ? And where is the money I lent you, 
received of Richard Lethbridge of Franklin, and 
of Mrs. Bullen of Medway, for fish taken from 
Wrentham Pond, when on errands with leave to 
stay, by fishing all night, to say nothing of the four 
I brought to you whilst the rain came down in tor- 
rents ? And above all, where are my nine sheep, 
due three years since, the natural increase after 
paying for keeping of the lamb pointed out by my 
grandfather John Fisher ? And a fine one it was, 
for which I paid to you that identical English crown 



MEMOIRS. 31 

piece given to me by my father when he left me 
for West Point, from which place he never return- 
ed. And where is that bushel of rye which I 
earned by reaping for William Mellen, after faith- 
fully doing the five days stent you gave me hoeing 
potatoes in new land ? And why have you neglect- 
ed to clothe me ? Have I not served you faithful- 
ly ? And have you not let me out by the day since 
I could do a man's work, instead of learning me 
the trade you said you would, when you told me 
my mother had bound me to you for that purpose ? 
Answer these questions if you please master Bragg. 
The handkerchief you bought with your money, 
my daughter Jemima wore out The money you 
received for your morning, evening and midnight 
labors which I borrowed, I have honestly paid you 
three coppers of George the second's, which you 
spent at Ephraim Littlefield's March meeting day. 
The^sheep I sold five of them to Simeon Littlefield, 
killed the other four and ate them. The rye I re- 
ceived of William Mellen on settlement, and have 
consumed it. As to paying your honest dues, and 
clothing you as I ought, I was so negligent in re- 
gard to justice, and shiftless in my business — at- 
tending so much to my neighbors, that I did not do 
either. But I have brought you up, or rather to be 
honest, you come up yourself. I certainly have 
taught you good economy, when I gave you a se« 



32 MEMOIRS. 

vere scolding one morning before it was light when 
on the way to reap for Thaddeus Lovering, for 
wearing your meeting hat that cost four shillings, 
instead of wearing your every day hat. I know 
the crown was off and your hair stuck out at the 
top. I do not know but you have served me as 
faithfully as boys in general, and I believe that I 
have let you out to work now and then to the 
neighbors in the busy season of the year ; let me 
think — why yes. You have worked some days 
for John Kilborn, for Andrew Watkins, for Asa 
Rockwood, for Thaddeus Lovering, for Jason 
Chamberlain, for William Chamberlain, for Reu- 
ben Fairbanks, for Asa Nocross, for Elisha Adams, 
for William Mellen, for Ezra Brown, for Dr. Josh- 
ua Richardson, for Timothy Rockwood, and about 
twenty days for Nathan Perry of Hopkinton, get- 
ting hay for Simeon Cutler, and John Claflin but 
one day reaping in Hopkinton, and some days for 
Capt Staples Chamberlain, to pay for corn I often 
had of him at three and six pence per bushel, in- 
stead of keeping what I raised for my own use, 
which I sold in the fall for two shillings and eight 
pence per bushel ; for Asa Leland, for Capt. Lov- 
ering, and Enoch Chamberlain. Since you have 
been so kind as to labor where and when I wanted 
to have you, instead of learning the trade which I 
never was well acquainted with myself, 1 will get 



MEMOIRS. 33 

you clothing if you will go out to work and earn 
the money. 

Now this controversy being ended, Arial took his 
pretended master at his word, and went to Brook - 
line, the last of March 1891, and let himself to 
John Goddard, to work on his farm six months at 
six dollars per month ; returned and was furnished 
with two shirts, and a long linen and tow frock, 
and on the the 'eleventh of April at the rising of 
the sun, with a small bundle in his hand, walked 
twenty-six miles to John Goddard 's in Brookline, 
ate his dinner and went to work at half past 1 P. 
M., Goddard being too much of an Aristocrat, for 
a Democrat to dwell with. 

Mr. Goddard worked his men hard and kept them 
poor — gave them skim milk and bread for break- 
fast, and when set before Arial the thing so much 
offended him that he threw the puter quart bason, 
bread, milk, spoon and all on the kitchen floor. — 
This so much exasperated the old man, that he 
proposed to settle, which was gladly accepted. Af- 
ter settlement the old man, who was sixty years 
old, became more calm, and invited Arial to stop 
over night, and take breakfast, which he accepted , 
considering it good policy to quarter on his enemy. 
In the morning being Tuesday, let himself to 
Samuel Griggs, for five months at five dollars and 
sixty cents per month, and walked home the same 
day with the money received of John Goddard ; 



34 MEMOIRS. 

since which time his pocket has never been entire- 
ly empty. 

Friday walked to Samuel Griggs,' and Saturday 
commenced work — finished his five months to the 
satisfaction of all concerned. Returned home and 
paid over the money to his pretended master, and 
received such clothing as was thought proper; spent 
the winter as usual in the service of his pretended 
master. 

April Alexander proposed to Arial, on the receipt 
of thirty dollars being paid him, he would relin- 
quish forever any further claims on his services, 
and that his house should be his home, and his 
family should manufacture his clothing, he finding 
the raw materials. He not having any where to 
lay his head, and no friend on whom to rely in 
case of sickness, and viewing a home of great 
value, did consent to pay the thirty dollars as soon 
as he should earn it. Arial's pulse now beat high 
and quick ; he felt relieved from manacles that had 
too long bound his hands to the service of a dis- 
honest master. He had in some measure got the 
use of tools used in shoe business, and was at this 
time but a poor workman ; but liking the business 
he first sought employment of Joseph Wares of 
Medway, who with a most contemptible sneer 
answered he had no occasion. This went like 
a dagger to his heart. To labor on a farm was 



MEMOIRS. 35 

more than he could think of. In the medita- 
tions of his thoughts he remembered when at 
Samuel Griggs' in Brookline the year past, hearing 
Samuel Slack say that Jonas Tolman had hired a 
man to work for him at Shoemaking, and the man 
neglected so to do, which was the first intimation he 
ever had that one Shoemaker employed another, as 
such cases did not exist at that time in the country; 
and there was not, he believes, a Shoe Store in the 
town of Boston at that time. Not being willing to 
give up the ship to the first squall that struck her, 
to push his fourtune, he packed up his duds swung 
his pack and was off for Brookline. Called on 
Tolman who was then in want of help ; would 
give four shillings for making boots, and two for 
shoes, twelve cents for tapping and heeling — ^jour- 
neymen paying one dollar per week for board and 
Tolman the rest ; board was eight shillings per 
week at the best houses. He went to work first at 
poor shoes made from remnants, but in eight weeks 
was able to suit Tolman's most difficult customers. 
Times now went well — by working hard could 
clear seven dollars per month; remitted twenty 
dollars to Alexander Bragg the third day of Sept. 
1792, went into Dr. Aspin wall's Hospital, was 
vaccinated with the Small Pox, which at this time 
was rapidly spreading through the country. The 
inabitants of Boston had then past a vote to let it 



36 MEMOIRS. 

spread through town. It would have been almost 
impossible to have remained in Boston or any oth- 
er place in the country, without taking the Small 
Pox, which he greatly feared should he take it the 
natural way, he would have no chance for his life, 
which was the principal cause of his going into the 
Hospital, which must have offended his master 
Bragg, as it delayed his receiving the balance that 
he said was due him. He was willing a man 
should put his life in imminent danger, rather than 
the payment of the paltry sum of five or ten dol- 
lars should be delayed a few days, which other- 
wise would have been lost to him forever. 

After thirty-one days Arial was allowed to leave 
the Hospital, the pleasure of which none but him- 
self can ever know. No one could leave the Hos- 
pital until he was thoroughly cleansed, as the Dr. 
was under bonds to the town of Brookline of one 
hundred pounds for each and every one that should 
take the Small Pox of one of his patients, without 
the limits assigned to his pest house. He bore the 
disease with patience and fortitude, rejoicing that 
he had been vaccinated — although he was extreme- 
ly afflicted, being blind four days, and deprived 
swallowing even any liquids for five days on ac- 
count of the pock full in his throat ; he was cov- 
ered from the top of his head, down to his waist, 
and when full, formed but one scab. This disease 



MEMOIRS? 37 

would have undoubtedly proved fatal to him, had 
it not been for William Ware, a young gentleman 
from Hopkinton, who was in the Hospital at the 
same time, whose kind care and tender treatment, 
be it said to his praise, laid Arial under obligations 
never to be paid, and it grieves him to the heart 
when he reflects that William has long since paid 
the debt of nature. 

The rules of the Hospital were absolute and 
strictly enforced. Heat you was not allowed, cold 
you might avoid ; no meat, salt, butter, or any kind 
of grease were allowed. Skim milk, bread, mo- 
lasses, sugar, all kinds of green sauce, and fruit 
well cooked might be taken at pleasure; all of 
which rules Arial strictly attended to. A few of 
the first days he fed on boiled rice and skim milk ; 
for seven days on sweet baked apples and milk, the 
latter part of the time on hasty pudding and milk ; 
for twenty-eight days never tasted either butter, 
meat, or salt, except a little salt in the pudding the 
latter part of the time. The twenty-ninth day of 
his confinement he discovered a door open; on look- 
ing found it led to a celler — descended the stairs 
and found the celler well stored with roast beef, 
lamb, bread, butter, pies, and every thing a man in 
his situation could desire. From this abundant 
store of good things, he thought it no sin to take 
one mouthful, as he did not allow himself but 
3 



38 MEMOIRS. 

one. On the thirtieth day repeated the operation, 
and taking the same measure twice told, and on 
the thirty-first day of the same rate of measure- 
ment, filled his mouth three times, and made his 
escape without being observed either time by any 
one under the roof. The afternoon following left 
the pest house for one more congenial to his feel- 
ings ; it was that of the noble and generous heart- 
ed Benjamin Davis, whose wife was young with 
beauty, and character unrivalled, to which we may 
add his widowed mother, whose motherly feelings 
were equally extended to all, rich or poor, high or 
low — she was a mother indeed. 

Arial returned to his work for Jonas Tolman, in 
thirty-eight days, and to Jonathan Dana's his old 
boarding place. In forty-five days after the hurry 
of the season was over, and but little to do, he be- 
gan to look about and learn if possible what might 
be best for him to do when his engagement with 
Tolman should be out ; for that purpose he had re- 
course to the following enquiry : — Why do you not 
make calf shoes for Providence market ? John 
Howe, a speculator in leather wished to go to Provi- 
dence, advised Tolman so to do. Tolman believ- 
ing all that was said, cut forty pair of shoes, had 
them made, went to Providence with John Howe. 
Tolman sold his shoes at one dollar per pair, the 
same price he was told by Arial they would bring. 



MEMOIRS. 39 

John Howe bought much leather of Mr. Draper a 
Tanner, in Attleborough, and who had a brother 
two miles South of him who was a Currier. Re- 
turned, was satisfied from whom Arial learned who 
bought shoes, and who sold leather — after close 
calculation found to work for the market far better 
than journey work. 

After sending five dollars more to his pretended 
master, making twenty-five dollars in all, instead 
of thirty, for which he ever regretted he had paid 
any part. Things began to look to him in their 
true light ; that his master as he called him, had 
acted under false colors, and was no better then a 
land pirate ; he had also sold his place and had 
none for himself, by which Arial was deprived of 
that home promised him in consideration of money 
paid ; and as to having his clothing made by the 
family, he had lost all hope, and indeed never re-- 
ceived any favor to the value of one inch of thread J. 
After settling with Tolman, paying his Tailor and^ 
Doctor's bill, left Brookline for Holliston, the ih- 
habitants of which place were an honest, indusiri-- 
ous people — had but little knowledge of human na^- 
ture, and of course were superstitious, which h©- 
never discovered, although brought up among tkem^. 
•until he returned from Brookline, a more intelligent- 
people, but now far behind many sections of the 

country. 

3# 



40 MEMOIRS. 

After arriving at Holliston with ten dollars in his 
pocket, with a few clothes, he made all possible 
enquiries for board throughout all his old neigh- 
borhood. Not finding one that would trust him 
for three week's board, he sank down in despair, 
and resolved to return, and there in solitude to la- 
bor till his flesh should cleave to his bones, rather 
than be denied so small a favor through fear of 
non-payment. As he was about to leave, Asa 
Rockwood came in, or rather his wife sent him, as 
she wore the breeches, as the vulgar saying is, al- 
though she was twice as large as himself, who 
said " I and my wife if you wish, have concluded 
to find you room and board for one dollar per week, 
provided that you will pay at the end of three 
weeks, as we shall have but three in the family 
then." This was assented to ; hired a horse of 
Abel Fisk of Hopkinton, went to Brookline, paid 
two dollars and fifty cents for tools ; bought of 
John Howe, forty pounds of sole leather on credit, 
and thought it a large stock. Returned with his 
leather and tools, and commenced boarding with 
Asa Rockwood the 19th of April 1793 ; bought of 
Simeon Cutler one Calfskin, and three of his son, 
paid seven dollars for the four skins, from which 
he made twenty-two pairs of shoes ; hired a horse 
for fifty cents, bought a bag of hay of John Claflin, 
paid ten cents, and with his twenty-two pair of 



MEMOIRS. 41 

shoes in saddle bags, and his bag of hay bound on 
behind him, before the sun had risen was off for 
Providence — stopped one and half mile North of 
Providence bridge, gave hay to his horse, and with 
one pair of shoes in his hand, and the saddle bags 
on his back, marched on. When going on to the 
bridge saw two men standing by the way side, 
when one of them called out — " Have you shoes 
to sell ?" The respond was, I have. " How many?" 
Twenty-two pairs. " What do you ask ?" One 
dollar per pair — looking at them, said — "I will give 
you twenty-one dollars and fifty cents." You shall 
have them said he — took the money, returned to 
his horse, found him refreshed, when he mounted 
and rode direct to Mr. Draper's in Attleborough, of 
whom he had heard when at Brookline. Bought 
six Calfskins — rode to Thurston's Tavern in Frank- 
lin, gave his horse the hay that remained, and ar- 
rived home one hour after sun down the same day; 
paid three week's board, and for his horse, and 
found that eight dollars would remain for his three 
week's work, which was far better than seven dol- 
lars per month at Brookline, where the inhabitants 
thought it beneath their dignity to hold conversa- 
tion with their hired help, or a journeyman shoe- 
maker — Mr. John Howe, Mr. Jonathan Dana, and 
♦he noble hearted Benjamm Davis, excepted. 
Continued to manufacture shoes until he had 



42 MEMOIRS. 

accumulated eighty dollars, when he spent forty 
dollars for clothing. Went to Brookline where he 
bought a first rate silver watch of Jonas Tolman. 
Returned home — took supper, walked over to Eph- 
raim Littlefield's where there was a poppet show 
as they called it ; found there among them a young 
man by the name of William Phipps, who from an 
-envious disposition, or otherwise, took occasion to 
say that he thought a watch would be the first 
thing that fop of a Bragg would have. Is it not 
enough to say he paid for the watch when he 
bought it, and owed no man a cent? He continued 
in this small way of business until April the first 
1794, left and went to board with Asa Nocross. 
Worked at Shoemaking, and July the first com- 
menced and worked four weeks at haying for Asa 
Nocross, for fifteen dollars, then at shoes again. In 
October hired Bethuel Ellis for one year an accom- 
plished workman, for eighty-dollars the year. In 
Jan. went to board with Elias Lovering. In April 
following hired Jonathan Bryant one year for nine- 
ty dollars. On the 19th of October 1795 re- 
moved into a small house hired of Aaron Phipps, 
it being the first house in the North East part of 
Milford, on the County road, leading to Boston, 
where he boarded himself and men by the help of 
his mother, who did his house work. This move 
was on account of the mhabitanfs at this time he- 
4 



MEMOIRS. 43 

ing strangers to money-making by taking boarders. 
Bethuel Ellis' time being out, he hired him for one 
year more at one hundred and forty-four dollars ; 
continued manufacturing Calfskin shoes until April, 
when Bryant's time was out, settled and paid him 
and all other demands; and on strict enquiry, found 
he had cleared with his own labor but one dollar 
and seventy-five cents, which he considered poor 
wages for six months, when he proposed to Ellis 
that he should shift his business from that of Call 
shoes, to that of making negro shoes, to which El- 
lis readily consented. Bought stock and went to 
work for the slaves of the South ; little regard be- 
ing paid to the quality either of stock, or work, as 
Ellis closed forty pairs in a day, and made five 
pair a day, while Arial what time he had beside 
cutting, would make eight pairs per day. In the 
course of the fall hired Benjamin Bullard one 
month — paid him twenty dollars. At the end of 
six months sold out, and on settlement of this ne- 
gro concern, found he had cleared in six months 
past, three hundred and fifty dollars. Made Calf 
shoes through the winter ; sold out in spring at but 
little more than cost — the cost of board for eighteen 
months past, including house rent at nineteen dol- 
lars per year, and wood for the house and shop at 
one dollar and twenty-five cents per cord, eight feet 
wood. Rye one dollar and twenty-five cents; corn 



44 



MEM0IR9. 



at one dollar per bushel ; pork eight cents by the 
hog per pound ; beef on the foot from the drove 
five dollars and fifty cents per hundred; butter one 
shilling per pound ; cheese eight cents ; cofi'ee 
thirty-three ; bohea tea thirty ; sugar eleven cents, 
with other necessaries common in a family much 
the same price as at this day, making in the total 
one dollar and four cents a head per week. 

In 1796 married Sibbel Nocross, and on the first 
day of April 1797 removed with his wife and moth- 
er, and twelve hundred dollars, to a house in Mil- 
ford, owned and occupied in part by Nathan Park- 
hurst. Business at this time became dull. Boots 
and shoes made this season, could be sold at cost 
no other way than on time. The first of April 
1798, removed with wife and mother and one child 
to the house of Elisha Parkhurst, where he resided 
one year. From the first of June to the last of 
July the dysentary prevailed to an alarming degree. 
In the short time of ninety days, about forty died 
out of the town of Milford, which contained at that 
time, about eight hundred souls. Those that died 
mostly were small children. His son was taken 
with this most fatal disease the first of July. In 
three days after, his wife was violently seized with 
the same disorder, and lingered under a distressing 
sickness, until 3 o'clock on the morning of the 
sixteenth of July. After taking her farewell of 



MEMOIRS, 45 

the partner of her bosom, and her little son, who 
she resigned to the care of her husband, she in 
calm resignation exchanged her earthly state for 
that of everlasting. In the death of his wife, he 
was inconsolable ; he had no friend to whom he 
could impart his trouble. He was broken down 
in business ; he had now no object to stimulate him 
to action. Business was not only bad, but grew 
worse every day. Money was not to be had, and 
he who owed one dollar and had not more than 
double that amount in stock, at former prices could 
not pay his debts. He was at this time owing six 
hundred dollars, and had paid no attention to col- 
lecting his debts, or disposing what little goods 
were on hand, until January 1799, when he was 
called on by Ephraim Chapin, to whom money was 
due, which brought him to see his present situa- 
tion. Paying his debts was ever dear to him, as 
he never had a note given on time overlay the day 
of payment. With due dilligence, he set himself 
about collecting his debts ; the more he looked af- 
ter his creditors, the more he found them unable to 
pay. But after due dilligence not only in collect- 
ing as well as selling all his effects, did on the first 
day of April pay the last cent he owed to any hu- 
man being, leaving him with some small articles, 
not to the value of more than fifty dollars, which 

"A'as all that remained of his twelve hundred doN 
■I* 



46 MEMOIRS. 

lars, and the loss of two year's tinie, with his moth- 
er on his hands who was feeble and destitute. He 
returned on the last week in March all his house- 
hold goods, with few exceptions, to his wife's fath- 
er, from whom they came, and with them his little 
son ; his dear mother he boarded out with Moses 
Hiscock, at his own expense, but left not the house 
himself until the last day of March 1779. At 9 
o'clock in the evening took lodgings at Stephen 
Kilborns ; at 2 o'clock in the morning was called to 
the burning of Phineas Eames' house, and shock- 
ing to relate, on coming to the house found the 
sides falling in with Mr. E's. two apprentices at 
the cabinet work, viz : Turner and Hayward with 
his little son about six years old, which lay burning 
in the flames ! The same day came to board with 
Daniel Hemingway in Holliston, where he soon 
sunk into despondency. He brooded over all his 
misfortunes — his all was gone, and he could not 
forget the irreparable loss of his wife ; and himself 
almost twenty and seven years old, lonely and pen- 
nyless ! By these circumstances he was taught to 
know that the present time is all that man can 
boast. Vain pride is but a bubble that breaks at 
death. 

What you think right , that do to day, 
Come liCe or death, come when it may ' 

In the iiiii part of May 1799, went a jouiney to- 



MEMOIRS. 47 

Hardwick, to pay some taxes on land in that town 
for Josiah Nelson and Nathan Parkhurst. In this 
journey he had the company of Miss Elizabeth 
Chamberlain to her brothers, William Chamberlain 
in Rockingham. On his return his journey had 
in some measure revived his spirits ; and under 
pressing demands for means to live on, he went in- 
to business with Hamlelt Barber, June 26th. They 
hired two men and a boy between them, and manu- 
factured boots and shoes ; were not absent from 
their seats little or none till the first of April 1800, 
when they closed up their business ; then he found 
he had three hundred dollars cash on hand, besides 
paying seventy dollars for his mother's board, cloth- 
ing, and carrying her to her daughter Lincolns in 
Vermont, exclusive of what she had done binding 
shoes. June following he went a journey with 
James Barber, to see his brother Willard in N. Y., 
but of the town and County he then resided in, if 
living, he knew not. Barber went with him to 
Whitestown, Utica, Rome, Newhafford, and down 
the Unidily, enquiring for Willard Bragg of all 
they met. After the search became almost hope- 
less, they met a man, to whom they put this ques- 
tion — Do you know any man by the name of Bragg 
in this County ? *' I do not, but go to the next 
house, there is a man that knows all things ; he 
can tell you." We soon came to the man plough- 



48 



MEMOIRS. 



ing among corn ; as he came to the road we ac- 
costed him thus— Are you the man that knows all 
things ? We met a man that said you did. " I 
think he is mistaken." Well Sir, do you know a 
man by the name of Bragg? " Bragg, Bragg, I 
do not." But you go to the next house, they can 
tell you ; there is a young man there that came in- 
to this neighborhood this Spring." I asked him 
who made his pants ? " Mrs. Bragg." They 
found the young man who said Wiliard Bragg 
was at the German Flats, when he left. They 
retraced their steps— found his brother and his 
wife all well. On their return Arial visited his 
two sisters in Wilmington, Vt. which was the first 
time but one he ever saw his sister Eunice. 

Returned to HoUiston, manufactured shoes, un- 
til November 1801, when he sailed from Boston for 

Baltimore, with shoes and many other articles. 

Being well prepared for manufacturing in that 
place, for that purpose hired James Barber to go 
with him. But finding that place not so promising 
as he expected, sold his goods and returned by land 
the last of December. Manufactured shoes till the 
Fall of 1802. Sold his shoes and opened a small 
Store of English and West India Goods, which 
business he followed for two years. 

On the eighth day of March 1803 bought him a 
small farm in Milford of Capt. Perry Daniels, and 



MEMOIRS, 49 

on the tenth day married Elizabeth Chamberlain of 
Hoiliston, daughter of Enoch Chamberlain. Let 
his house for two years, and lived with his wife in 
the house with Daniel Hemingway, with whom he 
had boarded some years — carrying on his farm 
himself until the last of March 1805, when he re- 
moved on to his farm and set out an orchard of 
Apple trees, which were quite small. Hired Isaac 
Kibee of Medway. and Luther Pumroy of North- 
ampton to make shoes; cut their work and attended 
to his farm. Finding much difficulty in buying 
good butter, he bought pasture land, kept four cows 
and a horse for family use, and to do his work on 
the farm. Increased his business at shoes by an 
addition of one man yearly until 1809, when he 
curtailed his business and built him a house, forty 
by thirty-two, with a kitchen thirty-two by nine- 
teen, and wood house thirty by sixteen, all joining 
each other, for the purpose of boarding twelve men 
if wanted, as all journeymen shoemakers were 
single men, and no married men at that day work- 
ed journey work. But ere long he found that he 
had made a gross mistake. Journeymen soon be- 
gan to get married, when not many except married 
men were to be hired. Being disappointed in the 
use of the house, "did from time to time, as circum- 
stances offered, fill his house with thirteen of his 
own children.. He niored into his ^e^y house in 



50 MEMOIRS. 

September ; a little more than one year after, his 
mother sickened, and died on the fourth day of 
November 1810, aged sixty-six years. Continued 
his shoe business in a small shop taken from his 
old house. 

In 1805 moved across the way with an addition 
to its length of six feet, cost of which was fifty 
dollars. In 1816, built him a barn fifty by thirty 
feet, which was raised on the first day of June, and 
on the second he was called to the bed side, under 
a most afflicting scene, even that of witnessing his 
beloved wife's eyes closed in death ! She had 
brought him five sons and two daughters, who 
with him mourned the loss of the best of mothers, 
by the. fatal disease consumption. Under this af- 
flicting scene he felt himself under double obliga- 
tions of being not only a father to his children, but 
a mother. Having now eight children on his 
hands, with the one by his first wife, there was no 
time to loose in providing for his children, and ob- 
taining a suitable woman to take charge of the 
family concerns generally. In a short time he had 
the good fortune to agree with the widow Corbett, 
of Hopkinton, who looked well to the concerns of 
the house, and particulary to that of his children. 
She continued until August the twenty-fifth, 1817, 
the day he married Nancy Cutler, daughter of 
Henry 3I?lkn, 'vho has brought hmi three ^ons and 



MEMOIRS. 51 

two daughters. Eleven of his children are now 
living, and all married. Sally died February 10, 
1S23, aged twenty-one months and four days. — 
Newell died March 18, 1826, aged seventeen 
months and eighteen days. 

In 1819, built him a new shop which cost two 
hundred and sixty dollars, and removed the old 
shop to be used as a corn barn ; but it was not suf- 
fered long to be used for such a noble purpose, but 
was removed for the third time to where it now 
stands, at the expense of fifty dollars. 

The names of his children and day of their 
birth are as follows : — 

Maynard, son of his first wife, January 13, 1797. 
Almira, daughter of his second wife, Oct 11, 1803. 
Appleton, son <' *^ " April 3, 1805. 

Fowler, son " " " June 15, 1807. 

Emely, daughter " <' " Jan. 23, 1809. 

Alfred, son " " " July 10, 1811. 

Arial, son " " " May 24, 1813. 

Willard, son " " " April 10, 1815. 

Alexis & Elizabeth of the third wife. May 20, 1818. 
Mellen C. son '< " « Nov. 19, 1819. 

Sally, daughter " *' " May 6, 1822. 

Newell, son " " " Oct. 1, 1824. 

Number of acres of his farm — time, cost, and of 
whom bought. 



^ MEMOIRS. 

Twenty-eiglit rods of Daniel Hemmg- 

way, April 1803, _ - o, 

Nine acres and 100 rods of James Perry, 

March 15, 1805, - - 1^0,00 

Thirteen acres and 68 rods of Walter Bui- 

lard, December 14, 1805, - 180,00 

Six acres and SO rods of Aaron Bullard, 

December 14, 1805, - - 90^75 

Nine acres of Jonathan Bullard, October 

25,1806, - - - ^"^'^^ 

One acre 134 rods of Abner Pond, June 1, 

1806, - - • - ^^'^^ 
Ten acres of Elias Lovering, December 28, 

1807, - - • ■ ^^"'"^ 
Eight acres of Enoch Chamberlain and son, 

^ December 25, 1808, - - 180,00 

Eighty. eight acres and 53 rods of John Lit- 

" tlefield, August 12, 1816, - 2200,00 

Eleven acres 90 rods of James Cutler, May 

10,1828, - - - 2^7 '^"^ 

One acre and horse of Deborah Kilborn, 

April 5, 1831,- ■ - 140,00 

One acre of Maynard Bragg, March 28, ^^^^^^ 
1835, - * * ' 

Total No of acres-178 73 rods-Do 

cost, - " ^5 

The buildings he has erected on his farm with 



MEMOIRS. 53 

some small repairs, the cost of which in 1835, was 
$5,152 have suffered many heavy losses, a natural 
consequence in so long a run of business most of 
which was occasioned by accommodation to others, 
and he flatters himself that those who follow him, 
may be more scruplous in doing good. From his 
own experience he lays it down as a maxim, that 
no man can help another in the way of business, 
who has not given strong evidence, that he has by 
all the means in his power helped himself, and 
paid strict regard to justice, truth and economy in 
all his transactions. 

He has performed military duty twenty-nine 
years at his own expense ; has held a Commission 
in every grade, from Ensign to Colonel Command- 
er of a Regim^ent. Has been agent for his town 
in long contested, and incorrigible litigations ; has 
done for many years much of his town's business ; 
gave great satisfaction to the poor when called to 
provide for them, and was the first who caused a 
stop to be put to letting out the poor at auction to 
the lowest bidder, either separately, or all together, 
to which towns in general have paid but little re- 
gard to the bidders means or disposition suitably to 
provide for their actual wants. This attention to 
the poor he thinks the best act of his life, except 
that of providing for his own family. 

In 1839 was elected Representative, to the Gen- 



54 POETRY. 

eral Court, and in 1842, accepted a seat in the 
Senate ; thus emerging from obscurity, ignorance 
and poverty, he has struggled through many years 
of hard labor intermingled with pain, sorrow, ad- 
versity and prosperity. Should any one learn 
from the foregoing, to meliorate his own condition 
it would more than compensate for what is here 
written ; as it is a wise man that learns from the 
experience of others, whilst those more unwise, 
must learn from their own as they will learn from 
no others. 

Jiily 1, 1846. 



MISCELLANEOUS POETRY. 



The following miscellaneous Poetry, the author 
composed at different times, and notv places it on 
record ivith this Memoir. 

THE DOCTRINE OF CHANCE. 

Why fancy this, so strange a world, 
That all by chance is round us hurl'd ; 
No argument man can advance, 
Can ever prove all came by chance. 

The forest trees that tower high, 
And lo the star, the spangled sky ; 
The splendid sun all glorious shine, 
Declare all nature's work divine ! 



POETRY. 

The order of the aniverse. 

Directs all nature in its course ; 

She guides the stars that round us burn, 

The moon that changes in her turn. 

Nothing takes place without a cause. 
And all moves on by nature's laws ; 
The elements that strive and rend, 
In blackness all their fury spend. 

In anger man may raise his sword. 
In anger shed his neighbor's blood ; 
Hindo's in poison dip their lance. 
Can never prove all came by chance. 

The sun, nor moon for ages past, 
Have never varied from their place ; 
From lofty mountains rivers flow, 
Winding their way to plains below. 

The ebb and flowmg of the tide. 
By man can never be denied; 
The bounding of the seas and flood. 
Declares there is all nature's God. 

All flesh as grass before him stand. 
All nature moves at his command 
Whose presence fills immensit}^. 
To whom all mortals bend the knee. 



B5 



60 POETRY. 

MEMOIRS OF PAST EVENTS. 

Come dear friend and tell me why comes that mournful 
sound ? 

What means that grief-worn furrow that on thy cheek is 

found ? 
That lock upon my head that's whiten'd like the frost, 
Shows by force of reason what disappointments cost. 

Time dear youth will bring you in place like mine to stand, 
Should you survive to a long life, 'tis but a span ; 
While reason undisturbed holds empire o'er my brain. 
Forget the days that's past, nor wish for them again. 

Oh the year of seventeen hundred and seventy-nine, 
My sire was clad in arms and forinne proved unkind ; 
Two brothers and three sisters, a mother wretched poor, 
Was parted from her children, for food she had no more ! 

Her child in her arras to her father did repair. 
Four children on the town their charity to share ! 
Neglected and despised no one to hear complaint — 
Father's bones were bleaching near the river on West Point 

World to one was fleeting v»'hose days had ne'er been blest^ 
He view'd among the crowd one fairer than the rest, 
Whose heart and hand obtained, engaged to give support, 
A heartein solitude God poured the blessing out. 

Death thou all destroyer, why hast thou come so soon, 
To Cut the thread of love which was but just begun ; 
The violet and the rose, the lllly on its stem, 
Were not so fine and fair as thou hast taken home. 

She left a man in sorrow, a son that's motherless, 
And v/ho together lingered without a smile to bless, 
Till like a gift from heaven a substitute was found, 



POETRY. 57 

Who has gone to realms of bliss and never to return. 

A mind well cultivated always just and kind, 
With fortitude she languished, to death she was resigned ; 
She open'd her mouth in wisdom, closed her eyes in death, 
Her children bless her memory with their latest breath. 
Now sorrow pain'd the heart, his bosom heaves a sigh. 
Eight children round his board to him they oft drew nigh; 
No fostering mother's breast for them to lean upon, 
To wipe their tears away or hear them sobbing mourn. 

We'll shun such dreary thoughts that oft disturb the mind, 
Death laid two mother's low, God gave the third that's kind. 
Who in love and union to us so near allied, 
All in whose love and care with safety may confide. 



REFLECTIONS 

Of the author in the stillness of the night, and the evening 
of his days, on passing the Cottage house from ichich he 
had taken his first wife, now uninhabited and in ruins. 

In youth we pass our hours away. 

And take no thought for days to come ; 

Our steps are light our hearths are gay. 
Thus on our youthful moments run. 

The cott where blaz'd the social fire, 

Where mirth and fiiendship reign'd within; 

And where then dwelt an honest bire. 
Now there's not heard the sound of man. 

Welcome beneath this humble roof, 
With friend in youth I've set to chat — 

4* 



60 POETRY. 

ON CAPITAL PUNISHMENT. 

Judgment just leaves conscience clear, 
Error brings trouble, care and fear; 
Then stay your hand shed not man's blood, 
As life and death belong to God. 

Let mercy rule in every cause. 
And mingled be in all man's laws; 
'Tween life and death let no man set, 
Take that from him he can't remit. 

Then spare his life, he may repent, 
Take not man's life you may relent ; 
He may become a man like you. 
Holy and wise, both just and true. 

Oh take not that you cannot give. 
You may rejoice to see him live ; 
Why force a soul loaded with sin 
Into a state that never ends ? 

Should ignorance be on his side. 
Insanity, he may be tried — 
Time may unfold and bring to light 
The jury's wrong, the culprit right. 

All laws abolish to shed man's blood, 
And leave the work to nature's God, 
Whose ways like truth eternal stand, 
To teach the erring ways of man. 

Enlighten'd nations stand aghast 
At human sacrifices past; 
Nations not many years to come 
Will stand amaz'd at was done= 



POETRY. 61 

Tke last words in substance of the author* s first wife, who 
died July 16, 1798, aged lb years 3 months and 10 days. 

Farewell my friend, my earthly all, 
And must we, must we part so soon ? 

My bosom how can 1 unfold. 

To know I can't come back again. 

Farewell, farewell, farewell, 

My loving friend farewell. 

Farewell, this is the parting hour 

With you who shar'd my joys and pains; 

Doom'd but to die just like a flower. 
And know I can't come back again ! 

Farewell, &,c. 

Farewell dear friend my glass is run, 

And my short life draws to its end ; 
Forget me not, but never mourn 

For her who can't come back again. 
Farewell, &c. 

Farewell to all the joys of life, 

To heaven let my thoughts ascend, 
When death shall cut this thread of life, 

I know I can't come back again. 
Farewell, &c. 

Farewell my soul must take its flight, 

Serenely let my hours but end 
And wend my way to realms of light. 

From whence I can't come back again. 
Farewell, &c. 

Farewell my son before you lies 

That breast to which you fondly clung, 

6 



C2 POETRYi- 

In silence ainks no more to rise, 

To you I can't come back again. 
Farewell, &c. 



REFLECTIONS ON THE FORE&OING. 

In youth I smil'd without a cause, 

And did not know my joys would end; 

But soon was taught by nature's laws, 
To know she can't come back again. 

That voice that cheer'd my midnight hours^ 
And shar'd with me my joys and pains; 

Bloom'd but to die a youthful flower, 
I know she can't come back again. 

Oh could my memory but cease, 
My life but find a peaceful end. 

Those tears that flow forever cease 
For her that can't come back again. 

Why should that flower die so soon, 

Whose years did never count twice ten ? 

And must I linger here to mourn, 
For her who can't come back again. 

God of my life look gently down. 

Serenely let my days but end. 
Since all my earthly joys are flown, 

With her who can't come back again. 

I'll look beyond this vale of tears, 

Where sighing and sorrow never comes, 

Cut short the number of my years, 
Could we who love but meet again. 



POETRY. 



6S 



THE UNCERTAINTY OF LIFE AND PROSPERITY. 

View the flowers as they spring, 
Odors to the breezes fling — 
While the groves with music ring 
From nature's feather'd tribe : 
And who greets the morning sun, 
Their labors from their hopes begun, 
By rufKans rob'd of all their young, 
That blasted all their joys. 

Now their hopes and labors lost, 
And their cries are on the blast. 
On the wing the fowler cast 
Them fluttering at his feet: 
So shall youth's strong hope arise, 
With naught but wealth before his eyes, 
Before he grasps the fountain flies 
Like light beams of the sun. 

Youthful man this lesson hear, 
Know that thou hast one to fear; 
God of love who's ever near. 
When earthly hopes shall fail ; 
You may strive, but strive in vain, 
For to ascend to wealth and fame, 
And to the last may still remain, 
A pilgrim on the land. 

Like a lovely blooming flower. 

Springing from a summer's shower, 

Droop and die within an hour, 

Beneath the burning sun; 

Could all men their wealth retain, 

That wealth thf^y^•e labored lone; to gain, 

5-* 



64 POETRY. 

More blest is he who leaves no stain 
Upon his character. 

Time on wings exceeds man's thoughta, 
All his works shall come to naught, 
And himself remember'd not, 
Till God shall bid him rise, 
Grief worn furrows from his eyes 
Now points to sorrows long past by, 
His broken heart now heaves a sigh, 
And waits for death's relief 



ELIZABETH C. BRAGG, FOR MART ELLIS' ALBrM- 

Youth a flower of gay delight. 

That time will swiftly end; 
That droops and dies by nature's blight, 

And never blooms again. 

Virtue 's a blessing from above 

That cheers us when we die; 
To all that claim our tender love, 

To them we're always nigh. 

Nations to females owe their birth, 

Nature to them hath given 
The power to teach the joys of earth, 

And form man's soul for heaven. 

With joy we've met, in friendship part, 

The love I bear to thee, 
8hall find no void within my heart, 

As thou canst none for me. 



POETRY. 65 



Oh Mary, for thy Album round, 
Accept my thanks unfeigned ; 

It gives me joy that I have found 
Your Album bears mv name. 



A gentleman on board of a Steam Boat from Boston to 
East Boston, in search of his mother, after twenty-nine 
years absence at sea, not knowing she ivas on board. 
The boat the wharf vi^as leaving fast, 

Parental love bloom 'd on the deck, 
A noble form was seen to pass. 

By female eyes that look'd through specks. 
With manly form he trod the deck, 

Regardless of the chequer'd crew — 
Save one whose heart with sorrow rent, 

Remark'd his wants can't be but few. 
He was passing by his mother, 

His listening ear had caught the sound : 
One I seek and that's my mother. 

Oh tell me where she can be found? 

In early life I left my home, 

I sail'd the world both far and near ; 

My mother's breast would be a throne, 
Where love could drop the silent tear. 

East Boston wharf the boat drew near. 
Trembling with age she left her seat. 

Whose eyes were wet with sorrow's tear, 
In hopes some friendly hand to meet. 

He bought of fruit and bread quite nigh. 



66 POETRY. 

And turn'd her sufFering wants to meet; 
And as this widow pass'd him by, 
He said, dear madam, will you eat? 

Sir, you'll accept my thanks I pray, 
It joys my heart such friends to meet, 

For I've not tasted bread to day — 
Dear Sir, it is a sumptuous feast. 

Oh tell me where you'r going so fast? 

Dear sir, to labor not far off ; 
My lot was by misfortune cast. 

My husband 's dead, my children lost. 

Madam, I crave your husband's name, 
In truth dear friend that name is mine I 

Twenty-nine years I've plow'd the main, 
And three times six have cross 'd the line. 

The strings that bound her cap were red. 
My mother used such strings to wear ; 

How long have you had them he said, 
Dear Sir, 'tis more than forty years. 

When I was young I saw those strings, 
Josephus then they call'd my name; 

Yours is the breast to which I clung, 
Mother, behold your long lost son ! 

She shriek'd, she fainted, and she fell. 
Into his arms amid the crowd ! 

It joys the heart of all to tell. 

And have such scenes proclaim'd abroad. 



POETRY. 67 



PRIEST'S LAMENTATION. 

How hard it is by death to part. 

We part nor meet again ; 
It chills my blood, it pains my heart. 

To leave this world in sin. 

The good old times, of ages past, 
When priests and kings bore rule. 

Return no more to cheer my heart. 
Or stop the mouth of fools^ 

The Christian and the thinking man. 
Have broke the monarch's chain; 

Its broken, oh its broken, and 
It can't be join'd again. 

When holy priests taught men their creed, 

And kings rode on the fence ; 
When racks were made to superscede 

Reason and common sense : 

Then men were humbled in our sight, 

And when they went astray, 
A tenth m tithes set all things right, 

And we had naught to say. 

O foolish man, how canst thou think 

To scan the works of God ! 
Did priests not pray, God not to wink, 

To spare a martyr's blood. 



POETRY. 

FOR INFORMATION. 
Tell me who loves to break the tender string, 

Around female hearts that's trembling ? 
And who that loves the stumbling block to fling, 

With treacherous hearts dissembling. 

Who that love the cords of love to sever 
That binds the hearts of two ui one — 

That sets the daughter against the mother, 
And the father against the son? 

And what man's cloak covers too many crimes, 

Whose cupidity dreads the light ? 
And what religious creed justly defin'd 

Condemns man's soul to endless night ? 

What Christian sect gives life to save the soul. 
And damns his soul to please his God ? 

By creeds like this, have many been control'd. 
And martyrs sealed it with their blood ! 

Who is it that comes in at the back door, 
And takes the first seat in the room ? 

Who leads woman captive, and would do more, 
When the good man is not at home ? 

Say who is it that shows his holy creed. 

At corners praying day and night ? 
Who is it makes the widow's heart to bleed. 

When bones of the dead lay in sight ? 
Who is it that's inclin'd to all but good, 

That burn'd Servetus when in rule ? 
Now tell me who can love a hypocrite 

That spends his days as would a fool .' 



POETRY. 69 

0)1 the death of his grandson John Fisher Jones, 
who died January 18, 1839, aged 5 years and 7 
, months. 

As leaves fall from the limbs, 
Or rose buds from the stems 

Cut by the frost ; 
So fell the young, the brave, 
No healing art could save 
From the consuming grave, 

Where all is lost ! 

Death unexpected come, 
And claim'd of me my son ! 

And must he go. 
Bright in the morn of life ? 
He knew no sin nor strife, 
Death cut the thread of life, 

And laid him low. 

My son, my hopeful son. 
Too soon thy glass hath run — 

Thou canst not fear ; 
Thy groans in death ascend. 
That shakes the heart of friends 
While round thy bed attends, 

Thy mother dear. 

Oh canst thou understand. 
It is thy mother's hand 

Laid on thy face. 
No answer from him come, 
In agony he flung 
His arms, and to her clung, 

But could not speak. 



70 POETRY. 

He's paid the debt of death ! 
To nature's God his breath, 

Great was his fall ; 
He sleeps within the grave, 
With the good and the brave, 
The beggar and the slave, 

Peace to them ail. 



Wrote on and after the youthful Teviperance Cele- 
bration, at Milford, July 4, 1842, ivhere a school 
fronn each Ward appeared loith their parents and 
teachers, called the Cold Water Army. 
To chaunt the praise of rustic swains, 

That work I leave to other men, 
I'll raise my voice to nobler strains, 
And nobler thoughts employ my pen. 

This day 's a blest and glorious day, 
A day on which the British chain 

Was broken, and shall we now delay, 
As blest a victory to gain. 

Bright the morn glorious was the deed 
To lead the numerous army forth, 

To sooth the heart that often bleeds, 
And bless the after days of youth. 

One hundred feet the grotto square, 
Shaded o'er with green birches tall, 

Whose web was w^oven for the fair, 

And form'd one grand and spacious hall. 

They come, they come, the Rand proclaim. 



POETRY. 71 

Instructors with their armies meet ; 
With hearts of joy the arbor gain, 
Where every soldier finds a seat. 

The old and young, weary and lame, 

Here in concord met together, 
To join the sympathetic strain, 

And cheer the heart of every mother. 

The festive board with bounty crown'd, 
Trembled beneath its mighty load, 

On which the youthful army fed, 
And alcohol w^as not allow'd. 

The smiling youth in pink and green, 

From East to West, from North to South, 

Were with their happy parents seen, 
Receiving wisdom from their mouth. 

Here sleep retired, and hearts beat high, 
Reason and thought resum'd her throne ; 

Banners with mottos waving high. 
In hands of youth to manhood grown. 

The scene is closed, the sun declines, 

We part not all to meet again — 
While some may linger long behind, 

Others an early grave may find. 

The setting sun will close the day, 
So death will close your life's career ; 

The wheels of time make no delay. 
To bring that fearful moment near. 



"ZS POETRY. 

EEFLECTIONS. 

Art is long and time is fleeting, 

And our hearts though stout and brave? 

Still like muffle drums are beating, 
Funeral marches to the grave. 

ANSWER. 

The Lord of glory had one creed, 
On good ground sow good seed : 
The naked clothe the hungry feed, 
And heal the hearts that bleed. 

Nature in all her various waj-'s, 
To mortal man unknown ; 
Performs her work from day to day, 
The earth with beauty crowns. 

Nature supplies the wants of man, 
Beasts on her bounty feed ; 
By natures all harmonious plan, 
The earth must yield her seed. 

The mighty deep by nature flows, 
The bounds that nature set ; 
Man never had the power to know, 
Nor nature to forget. 

All nature fills immensity, 
As nature never ends, 
No man shall ever see 
When nature first began. 

Why thinkest thou, oh foolish man, 
To scan the works of God ! 
Wast thou not made to till the ground. 
And bare afflictions rod. 



POETRY. * 73 

ON THE THOUGHTLESSNESS OF YOUTH. 
It grieves me to the heart to think 

Of past times I have miss'd; 
I've forged the chain then broke the link 

That would have made me blest. 

In youth when oft the fair I've met, 

A flush come o'er their cheek ; 
We'd chat and chat, and then regret 

That time had been so fleet. 

That heavenly music of the tongue. 

Makes melody of heart; 
And when the chat was once begun, 

We always grieve to part. 

Our hearts were fill'd with mirth and gle«. 

While time makes no delay ; 
Regardless of eternity, 

Though life wears but a day. 

But part we must, no pardon have. 

Our tongues they must be still ; 
Our tears fall fast upon the grave, 

There all our sorrows tell. 

Cold sweat upon the marble brow, 

Where death hath laid his hand. 
Cuts short man's days and lays him low, 

'Tia nature's dread command. 



74 POETRY. 

Composed and read at the trial for a Union of Manufac- 
turers of Boots and Shoes in Milford^ and the neighbor- 
ing towns, ill 1836. 

The farmer's wants are well supplied. 
While to mechanics 'tis denied 
Their business rightly to conduct. 
Want of union is want of luck. 

Assemble then and all unite, 
To give one price and what is right. 
To honest men for work done well. 
And in no case to undersell. 

Look well to all you do employ. 
Your work well done, no stock destroy; 
For he who o'erlooks not his men. 
Gives them his purse and all therein. 

Then shall your cash book well be lin*d. 
Accommodation always find ; 
Long credit then you will not need. 
Nor at the banks for discount plead. 

Your friends released who under-write, 
Your slumbers sweet though long the night; 
When prudence is before the eye, 
Ecconomy is always nigh. 

Untrammel'd minds will in a trice. 
With confidence command a price ; 
Wisdom in all things to control. 
Brightens the eye and joys the soul.' 



I»OETRY. 75 

Written on the execution of Russell and Crockett, which 
took place in the jail-yard, Boston March 16, 1836, /or 
setting fire to a dwelling house at that place, October 
1835. 

The horrid midnight burning flames, 

Rising from your incendaries hand ; 
Confines you restless here in chams. 

To wait your country's dread command ! 

With hearts depraved, beneath your cloak. 

Regardless of the laws of God ! 
Your country's mercy to provoke. 

Wreak vengeance on your neighbor's blood. 

You stand most rare within this bar. 

To matchless men all Adam's race, 
To pardon you will never dare. 

Or even show the signs of grace. 

Justice demands no smiles for thee. 

All nature trembl'd at your birth; 
And mortal man will never see 

A greater evil on the earth. 

From eyes of flint would fall a tear. 

And hearts of marble freely bleed, 
Villians to know like you were clear 'd. 

To propogate such midnight deeds. 

Go, wretches die beneath the knot, 

May God have mercy on your souls; 
A warning be to those that not 

Know how their passions to control. 



4* 



76 POETRY. 

REFLECTIONS ON PAST MISFORTUNES. 

Why am I mark'd for sorrows child ? 

Why are my joys turn'd into tears ? 
Without one friend on me to smile, 

Or soothe my short and wasting yeara. 

IN YOUTH. 

Father of heaven, 1 have no sire, 

I am his second orphan son ; 
He gave his life for liberty, 

Of friends or wealth I then had none. 

IN MANHOOD. 

Could love recall the fleeting breath, 
I would not mourn a father's home; 

Affection soothe relentless death. 
That laid my joys low in the tomb. 

Our hearts were in one bundle bound. 
Death the thread of life did sever 

And laid my joys beneath the ground, 
Never to meet, no not never. 

Now like the troubl'd oceans foam, 
My passions rise, and like a blast 

That swiftly bear me to the tomb, 
My hours of grief can't fly too fast. 

1 close my eyes and dream in sleep. 
That robs me of refreshing rest; 

I wake and only wake to weep. 
Without paternal love to bless. 

No father's house or mother's home, 

Where I could spend one lonesome hour ; 

For all was lost I'm doom'd to roam. 
And mourn that lost and fallen flower. 



POETRY. 77 

SITUATIONS COMPARED. 

The lark from the meadow and the lawn, 

^founts cheerly on her pinions high, 
With songs to greet the coming morn, 

And grace the blue etherial sky. 

In living free she's not denied, 

No willful wrong corrodes her breast ; 

In innocence she lives and dies, 

With her own progeny from her nest. 

While man is doorn'd to harder fate, 

To sweat and toil a life-long day — 
May knock and call at fortune's gate. 

And then by fate be turn'd away. 

Forced into life naked and bare, 

And forced out without his consent ; 
The God of heaven only knows where, 

And for what good cause he was sent. 

Is there no life but only this. 

No joys to cheer the drooping heart ? 
Is there no place more solid bliss, 

I have none now for to impart. 

LofC. 



'J'S fOETRY. 

WORDS OF FRIENDSHIP. 

April 8, 1839. 
Mr. Abner Kneeland, dear and respected friend, 
how can I convey to you the sorrowful emotions of my heart 
when casting my eye over your valedictory address, which 
was the first intimation I had of your absence. Since it is 
80 I can only say — 

Fare thee well, my friend farewell, 
When I saw you who could tell 
From my lips what might have fell, 
To know your destiny. 

Shall we never meet again ? 
Still for one cause we'll both contendif 
And in that cause our life we'll end. 
For truth and liberty. 

On the proud records of fame, 
Thousands will respect your name, 
Long after you in dust have lain, 
In the sweet sleep of death. 

]\Iay your latter days be blest, 
Beyond your foes in the fair West ; 
And where your bones in peace may rest, 
While nature's God remains. 






POETRY. 

THE DRUNKARD'S REFORM. 

When will you leave off drinking rum ? 

I do not know sir, when would you ? 
I'd leave before I had begun — 

If I could not sir, how could you ? 
But since you've been so very kind, 

And told me what I might have done, 
I have just now made up my mind, 

To tell you when I'll drink no rum, 
And throw my bottles all away, 
And throw my bottles all away, 
And thj^w my bottles all away. 
And throw my bottles all away. 

When misery joys my wife and child, 

And winding streams up hill shall run ; 
When death shall make his victim smile, 

Oh then I'll leave off drinking rum; 
When sweet is sour and sour is sweet — 

And women cease to use their tongues, 
Lions and lambs in friendship meet ; 

Oh then I'll leave off drinking rum, 
And throw my bottles all away, &c. 

Give me the glass that ever flows, 

I'd toil and sweat a life-long day, 
Content to wear these ragged clothes. 

And starve for bread another day; 
Oh for one glass of whisky sling, 

I'd pay the forfeit with my life — 
Before I'd loose that blessed thing, 

I'd starve my children and my wife. 
Nor throw my bottles all away, &c. 

5* 



79 



80 



When I am dead they'll raise no stone 

To tell the place, nor mark my name; 
Despised by all beloved by none. 

And all for naught but drinking rum ; 
And has it come to this at last. 

All my affairs to ruin ruin. 
And I myself in prison cast ! 

Is this the road all drunkard's run ? 
I'll throw my bottles all away, &c. 

My trembling limbs and bloated face — 

My eyes to swell long since began, 
Bring reason to my soul's release, ^ 

Oh I will leave off drinking rum. 
My health restored, my wife and child. 

Forgive me all that I had done ; 
When I return I meet their smiles, 

A good exchange for that of rum . 
I've thrown my bottles all away, &c. 

My troubled mind restor'd to peace, 

Curse followed brandy, gin and rum ; 
God save like ii>e the human race, 

From all the sins of drinking rum ; 
Then shall this land rejoice to know 

That pestilence and famine cease, 
Our hearts with blessings overflow, 

With joys of joys, the joy of peace. 
We've thrown our bottles all away, &.c. 



roETRY. 

NEVER RAIL AT THE WORLD. 

BY CHARLES SWAN. 

Never rail at the world, it is just what we make it, 
We see not the flower if we see not the seed ; 

And as for ill luck, why it's just as we take it, 
The heart that's in earnest no bars can impede. 

You question the justice which governs man's breast, 
And say that the search for true friendship is vain ; 

But remember this world though it be not the best, 
Is next to the best we shall ever attain. 

Never rail at the world, nor attempt to exalt 
The feeling which questions society's claim; 

For often poor friendship is less in the fault, 

Less chargeable oft than the selfish who blame. 

Then ne'er by the changes of fate be depress'd. 
Nor wear like a fetter time's sorrowful chain; 

But believe that this world though it be not the best, 
Is next to the best we shall ever attain. 



81 



82 roNcLUsioA. 



CONCLUSION. 



A FATHER S FAREWELL ADDRESS TO HIS CHILDREN. 

Although couched in simple language, it is to 
be hoped when duly appreciated, it may lead the 
heart in some measure at the close of life, to a sat- 
isfactory and happy result. 

Dear Children : — 
Remember all men are born free and equal, of 
which you are a part, and that you have certain 
inalienable rights, among these are life, liberty and 
the pursuit of happiness, and more than that, the 
right to worship God in the manner and season 
most agreeable to the dictates of your own con- 
science, provided you do not disturb the public 
peace, or disturb others in their religious worship. 
Be independent in thought, but despise not good 
counsel. Learn to know your rights and preserve 
them. Human nature is such that those that guard 
not their rights and liberty, ere long will be sure to 
loo:^e them; whereas truth was from everlasting th« 



CONCLUSION. B;i 

same — is now and forever will be Eternal as its 
author, and what all men ought to search dil- 
ligently to find out ; and as the conviction of 
which is forced on every man's understanding, ov- 
er which at pleasure he has no control. Therefore 
no man, nor body of men ought, or can justly ex- 
ercise any punishment on any man on account of 
his belief, or unbelief, as all men have an absolute 
right in all matters and things to satisfy their own 
conscience, as well as that of offering their devo- 
tions of heart to their Heavenly Father. 

Such was the liberty for which our fathers left 
their native land, traversed the Atlantic ocean, — 
faced the red man in his wrath, and the howling 
beasts of prey in this inhospitiable region of coun- 
try, and where too they were soon followed by their 
unnatural mother, and by her compelled to main- 
tain their rights, dearer to them than life at the 
point of the bayonet. This blessed liberty our 
fathers transmitted to us their descendents, never 
to forget, but to cherish, cultivate and defend. As 
morality and religion are the only sure pillows on 
which a republican government can rest, never 
give countenance or willingly recognize any law 
but that of equal rights and justice. Suffer no 
attempt to undermine the Constitution to go un- 
noticed. It is the anchor to the ark of your lib- 
erty and independence. This is not a land of tol- 



84 CONCLUSION. 

eration, nor never can be, while the laws are ad- 
ministered according to the principles of our bles- 
sed Constitution, and which you will guard as the 
palladium of your liberty. Once suffer tyranny 
and oppression in the least degree to take the place 
of free inquiry and religious liberty ; then might 
the Constitution of these United States, with all 
its beauty as well be swept into annihilation, and 
no more rememberance be had of all those free and 
happy institutions, bequeathed to us by our fathers, 
and sealed with their blood. Never contend with 
men concerning that which no man while living- 
can ever know. Racks and faggots are not con- 
vincing evidence of the truth of any religious sect 
or denomination. You will strive to cultivate the 
good will of all men, and as far as in you lies lead 
their minds from malice, hatred and revenge, to 
love. Constrain no man from his religious prin- 
ciples or opinions, but teach by example that it is 
better to love than to hate ; and far better to do 
good than to do evil. Teach these principles to 
your children, that future generations may rise up 
and call you blessed. Lay aside the wild fancies 
of the brain, which by avariousness in ages past, 
have caused rivers of blood unjustly to flow ; but 
give all the attention you have time to spare to that 
which all honest men acknowledge to be good evi- 
dence of morality and religion. Love your neigh- 



CONCLUSION. 85 

bor as yourself, then you can have no disposition 
to burn your neighbor at the stake, to force him to 
acknowledge you are right and he is wrong. But 
visit the sick in distress, those in prison confined in 
chains and shut out from the light of heaven; 
teach him that he is not confined for punishment, 
but for reformation. Forget not the widow and 
the fatherless ; give bread to the orphan and the 
stranger — dry up the tears of sorrow and anguish 
that sting to the heart. 

Woe to the man who shall go up to the house of 
holiness under false pretences, to worship as it 
were in an unknown tongue, regardless of the suf- 
fering of the miserable and wretched, whose cries 
and prayers ascend like clouds of incense to that 
God, who sends his rain alike on the just and un- 
just. By your fruits shall you be known. Imitate 
your God — to be humane and just is divine. Lay 
your cold heart in the warm sunshine of benevo- 
lence, until it shall burst wdth kindness, and shall 
have filled the cup of the afflicted and sorrowful to 
the utmost of your ability ; doing always that 
which is right in that all-seeing eye which pervades 
the inmost recesses of the human heart, and re- 
wards accordingly. Thus will you cause the 
prayers of thousands to ascend to God, that he 
would continue you many long and happy years in 
this life, and crown you with everlasting glory and 
honor4n that to come. 



86 CONCLUSION. 

Glory not in riches, they cannot save you from 
death, nor can they purchase you one moment of 
time. Enjoy the good of your labor, using the 
good things of this life as not abusing them ; and 
as far as in you lies make all around you rejoice 
that when the wheels of time shall cease with you 
to roll, that you may then with the eye of faith un- 
shaken, look forward and be able to say — Death 
where is thy sting, grave where is thy victory. 



